The Thing about Surprise Visits
by Mary Nirvana
Summary: The thing about surprise visits is that you can never be sure whether you are the person who surprises or the one who will be surprised. Or maybe both - like Jean Granger, who turns up on her daughter's doorstep surprisingly, unaware of what exactly she is interrupting inside the cosy flat. XxX HG/MM one shot


_Hej and thanks for stopping by! :)_  
_I had planned on writing some Hermione/Minerva stories/oneshots eventually, but not really in near future... Well. My muse had other plans: she wouldn't let me sleep the other night until I'd written this one. There you go. This is my first take on my two favourite witches, but I very much reckon it won't be the last one. Surprisingly;), we're taking Jean Granger's point of view here. Enjoy!_

#x#

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**The Thing about Surprise Visits**

Humming along with the tune of the doorbell, Jean Granger stood in front of her daughter's door. A delighted grin was spreading across her face when she finally heard hurried steps coming closer. The door was opened.  
"Harry, you're early, w—Mum!" The expression on Hermione's face changed from irritation to something alarmingly close to panic, leaving Jean to ponder on whether a surprise visit had been the right decision. Probably not.  
"Mum, now that's a surprise! Wow, umm, come in," Hermione said after a few moments, now with an almost shy smile on her face.

Was it Jean's imagination or had the young woman said the first word particularly loud, as if she wanted to warn somebody? Who would she find when she entered the flat? It was only then when Jean took a closer look at her daughter: she was wearing a beautiful black cocktail dress, high court shoes and make-up. Her lipstick seemed to have smeared and her pinned-up hair looked a bit dishevelled. She was fumbling with a golden bracelet while trying to smoothen her dress at the same time, and blushed under Jean's perusing look.

"This-this is not a good time, obviously", Jean muttered, unsure whether or not to accept Hermione's invitation in. She didn't want to intrude on something her daughter wasn't ready to let her know – yet. When the young woman opened the door wider and stepped aside, though, she hesitated only briefly before stepping in. She dared to take a quick look around while Hermione was busy closing the door; no-one seemed to be there.

"How are you?" Hermione asked nervously, hugging her mother carefully so as not to wrinkle up her dress again.  
"Brilliant," replied Jean, deciding that if her daughter didn't throw her out, she might as well try to find out whatever she was concealing. Curiosity got the better of her and she went on casually, "As are you, obviously. So, where are you going, beautiful lady?"  
"Some Ministry event. Harry will be here soon, but I think we've still got about twenty minutes. Would you like some tea, M—I just made some?"  
Jean's smile grew wider, "Sure, tell me where it is and get ready, dear."

Hermione nodded and pointed towards the kitchen, where Jean indeed found a tea pot that was far too large for one person. Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard her daughter whisper to someone in the next room. She couldn't understand what the young woman was saying, and she didn't try; it was none of her business. Well, not really. Or maybe it was, a tiny little bit.  
She helped herself to a cup of tea and poured another one for Hermione before leaning onto the wall to listen closely.

"No way, she's going to hex me," said a stern voice with a Scottish accent Jean thought she'd heard before. It took her some time to realise that it was a woman's voice, and she wondered if whoever was in Hermione's bedroom was there because she had spent the night before in her daughter's bed; and had probably spent many nights there already? Hermione was 28 years old, it was likely that she shared her bed with someone; even that she shared her life with someone. Jean had rather expected her to be with a good-looking, ambitious man, though; maybe the woman in her bedroom was just a friend.  
"Hold on a second, I'll take her wand away from h-oh wait!" Hermione said with a tender hint of mockery and a slight chuckle.  
"Even worse then, she'll kill me with the first available item she'll get hold of; or more likely, with her bare hands!" There was a short silence.  
"Not today and not like this," the voice insisted, sounding a great deal softer than before. Was that a kissing sound? Jean could hear her daughter agree and hurry back into the kitchen.  
Or maybe said woman wasn't just a friend.

"Is dad doing fine?" Hermione asked, as soon as she entered the room. She seemed to be avoiding Jean's gaze, quickly grabbing the cup her mother had prepared for her. Her lipstick was perfect now.  
"Yes, very," Jean replied, watching her daughter closely while sipping at her tea, "Did I tell you we'd been talking about hiring another dentist to support us at the surgery?" Hermione nodded. "Well, we found someone; she started working with us a fortnight ago and is fitting in really well. Having a third person around is a huge relief. Your father and I are already working less and are spending much more time together."  
"That sounds great, the two of you really deserve a bit more time off. You both worked full time since before I was born!" Hermione managed a smile.  
"And after all," Jean added, sending Hermione a piercing look, "one needs time to maintain relationships."

Judging from the younger woman's face, Jean had caught her. She would leave it to Hermione to mention the woman in her bedroom, but she would do everything in her power to trigger just that. And she didn't have much time for it.  
"Yeah, well," Hermione started hesitantly, "maybe..." She trailed off, peering towards the wall that separated the kitchen from the bedroom for a split second. "So you went shopping today?"  
Jean nodded, her eyes twinkling. "Your father and I are having a romantic dinner tonight, and I didn't have anything to wear. You know how it is..."  
Hermione took a few sips and seemed to be lost in thought when she slowly replied, "I sure do." She bit her lip, as if reprimanding herself for what she'd just admitted.

Had that been a quiet snort, coming from the bedroom? Deciding not to press on – for now – Jean changed the topic. "How are Ginny and the boys doing?"  
"They are fine, really. I'm actually meeting all of them at the Ministry later tonight. Ginny and Harry are having a baby, she's three months pregnant." Hermione smiled brightly, obviously being very happy for her friends. Jean could also read concern on her daughter's face, though; concern that she might be asked when _she_ would get pregnant.  
"Tell them I'm happy for them and give them my love," Jean said, deciding not to make Hermione even more uncomfortable by asking about Ronald. The young Weasley had indicated interest in a relationship with Hermione, but she had turned him down. Looking around the room innocently, Jean changed the topic again. "What happened to your food processor, by the way?"  
"Oh, I, I decided to sell it and, you know, try to manage it... on my own," Hermione stammered.  
"You didn't," Jean stated at once, both eyebrows raised. "You wouldn't do that even if your life depended on it. Because your life _does_ depend on that thing."

At that, she unmistakably heard a small chuckle in the next room, but acted as though she hadn't. So that woman knew her daughter rather well. Should that worry her? Probably not, because Hermione divesting herself of her life-saving food processor meant that the woman had to have quite some cooking skills – magical or non-magical. Any way it meant that Hermione wasn't starving.

"But whatever," she continued, now with a small grin on her face, "Are you ready to leave, or can I help you with anything?"  
"Oh, I just have to check on my make-up again. Sorry I don't have much time, mum, it's some official Ministry thing. We should meet up again next week, though." The young woman looked at her mother hesitantly.  
"It's alright, dear, it's my fault. I'm very sorry for dropping in like this, I should have called."

Hermione blushed slightly – she seemed to do that quite a lot lately – and turned to the bathroom. Jean had to admit that she wasn't too comfortable with the idea of her daughter being with a woman; not because she wanted grandchildren and a so-called 'perfect family' for Hermione, but because she didn't want her to be harassed. She had no idea what the wizarding world thought about same-sex relationships; Hermione was famous in this world, after all. When Harry picked her up later on, the stranger in the bedroom would surely have to show herself, right? She would just wait and see what was going to happen; see who that nice Scottish accent belonged to.

The ringing of the doorbell almost made Jean jump, so lost had she been in her thoughts.  
"Be there in a minute," Hermione called from the bathroom.  
Knowing it had to be Harry, Jean went to answer the door only seconds later.  
Harry started talking as soon as the door opened, "How is my favourite Headmistress doing? Is Hermione ready or did the two of you spend too much time shagg-" He stopped dead: his best friend's mother evidently hadn't been the one he'd expected to stand in front of him.  
Blushing deeply, he muttered, "Mrs Granger, I, oh, I mean, hallo."

Had Harry said, 'Headmistress'? Headmistress of what, and why would that headmistress open her daughter's door? She let the young man's words sink in. A headmistress opening her daughter's door. A headmistress shagg- a headmistress _shagging_ her daughter? Jean gasped. Hermione's dishevelled hair and dress, her lipstick, her constant blushing, all suddenly made some kind of sense.

"Ouch," Harry said miserably, vaguely guessing Jean's thoughts. He was now gazing past Jean, who didn't have to turn around to know that a surely panicking Hermione was standing there. She heard a second pair of high heels joining them in the living room; yet, she still didn't turn around but kept staring at Harry instead, her mind racing.

"Well, that was that, then," said the voice with the Scottish accent, causing Jean to gasp again when realisation dawned. She had indeed heard that voice before: on the day she had learnt that her daughter was a witch; from the then-deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; from the woman Hermione had idolised during her whole school career. But that surely couldn't be true, could it?  
"Please, put an end to this awkward situation, Mrs Granger," the voice said calmly. If the headmistress was nervous, she hid it perfectly from her voice, "Turn around."

When Jean did as she was asked, she held her breath.

Hermione was standing halfway across the room. A taller woman in a long emerald green dress and almost equally long black hair was standing behind her, with her arms lying loosely on Hermione's waist.  
Like her voice, the headmistress's body and her upright posture didn't give any sign of nervousness. Even though she wasn't actually smiling, there was a calm, reassuring look on her face, especially when her eyes flickered to the back of Hermione's head several times. She grabbed the young witch tighter and Jane noticed her daughter trembling a little bit.

Was she afraid that her own mother might cast her out when she heard that her daughter was with a woman? That she was with a former teacher of hers, one who is much older than herself? Granted, Jean might have preferred a younger woman, but she wasn't in the position to choose what was good for her daughter. And her Hermione had never failed in doing the right thing.

"You shouldn't have learnt it like this," Hermione muttered and took one of Minerva McGonagall's hands with both of her own. Looking up straight into her mother's eyes, she said with a firmer voice, "That Ministry event is a ball, and I'm going with Minerva. I'm going everywhere with Minerva."

"And I had to walk in on some hair-mussing bedtime activities for the two of you to tell me just that?" Jean asked, hiding a grin with great effort, raising an eyebrow instead. Realising that her daughter was still trembling in fearful anticipation, and that the headmistress had long since seen through her, her face brightened up.

"So, are we having family lunch on Saturday at one-thirty, ladies?"

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#x#

_Just in case you were wondering: Yes, I actually did picture Hermione and Minerva being involved in some really _crude business_ in Hermione's bedroom when Jean rang the bell. Minerva might have groaned violently at that moment, and said something like, "Bugger, Potter KNOWS what we're inevitably doing; I swear he's purposely early to see our flushed faces when he walks in on us, and watch us trying to contain our randiness all night at the Ministry. AND I swear he will not survive tonight!"_

_I'd love to read your opinions on this one, so take a minute or two and hit the "review" button, pretty please?  
Also, let me know if I made any (grave) mistakes, as, unfortunately, I'm not even close to being a native speaker._..  
_Have a nice week!_


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